


A Trying Day

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-14
Updated: 1999-05-14
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Turnbull has another trying day as Constable Fraser's underling. But will the night be as difficult?





	A Trying Day

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

A Trying Day

Okay, I had to, it was assigned to me. I had no choice. Really. Couldn't decide whether to post this to DSX first, instead, or what -- but you guys are the ones who instigated this, so here it is. If it turns up on DSX (opinions?) just ignore it. :) 

**Warning: Turnbull content. Explicit M/M content.**

# A Trying Day

Ann Teitelbaum 

The Constable was still shaking his head as he unlocked the door to his apartment. _How_ could he have been so _stupid_? Perhaps he should do as Inspector Thatcher suggested, and request a transfer to another consulate. He certainly wasn't doing anyone any good here. 

He methodically stripped off his uniform as he tried yet again to understand what kept going wrong. 

Inspector Thatcher was a... challenging superior officer. That was putting it kindly. She seemed to assume that everyone around her was an idiot, and her brusque, demanding manner seemed to reduce him to fit her assumption. She even treated Benton like an idiot. 

Benton. His real problem. 

Letting himself fall back onto his bed, he knew he was obsessing again. Hopeless to try denying it. 

Benton Fraser, the most gorgeous, yet baffling man he'd ever met. The man was a Canadian, yet spent most of his time helping that American policeman. Well, at least it _seemed_ like most of the time. 

Any attempt he'd made at starting an innocuous, social conversation had seemed to turn into a fiasco. A comment about the weather ended up as a meteorology lesson. An offer of flavored coffee he'd brought in specially turned into a diatribe against social traditions he had no part in. 

And when talking to Benton, a moment's inattention, say to note the length of those eyelashes, or the almost-curl of that hair, tended to result in his missing some essential conversational leap. 

Basically, he always ended up sounding like... an idiot. 

Shaking his head again, he found himself drifting into an uneasy sleep. 

* * * 

"Constable Turnbull?" Benton Fraser stood in the doorway. "I hope you don't mind my stopping by your home." 

"No, no, not at all. Come in." 

The visitor seemed uneasy, at a loss for words. He was turning his Stetson fretfully. 

"How can I help you?" 

That brilliant blue gaze finally met his. "I'd like to apologize to you." 

"Apologize? For what?" 

"For this." A strong hand reached out and landed on his shoulder, Benton moving close, closer... close enough to kiss him on the mouth. 

Still standing there, their breath intermingling, he could barely manage to stammer, "What...?" 

Now stroking his neck with a thumb, Benton smiled. "I know I've been... unapproachable. It's just that I was uncomfortable around you. Not... uncomfortable. Uncertain." Benton tossed the Stetson onto the coffee table. "But now I _am_ certain. And I'd like to make it up to you." 

He smiled, a delighted and relieved smile, and Benton brought his other hand up to cup his face. "What can I do to make it up to you?" There was a delightful twinkle in his eye. 

"Let's go to the bedroom," he suggested, tearing himself away but reaching out to bring his visitor with him. 

Once by the bed, the two men helped each other out of their uniforms, smiling as each item was folded, regulation style. Down to their underclothes, then Benton slid his hands underneath his undershirt, stroking his chest, up and down. 

He moaned at the sensations, reaching out for Benton's now-tented shorts. His grasp made Benton shudder, and those strong hands froze for a moment. By mutual agreement, they quickly shucked their undergarments, rushing into a full-body embrace that served only to further inflame their desire. 

Tipping them both sideways onto the narrow bed, Benton's hand wrapped itself around both hard cocks. Stroking slowly, Benton leaned close, whispering to him, "I've been watching you for so long. Wanting to do this. Thank you for knowing, for wanting this too." A kiss, and then it began. 

The flames of their lust flared, out of control, and both men groaned in their helplessness. Hips bucked, hands grasped, tangled, and firmed their grip. The thrusting began, as did Benton's pleas. 

"Oh, yes, please, yes, harder, please, oh," as their pace increased. "Almost, almost, oh, yes, just, one, more... ooooh... Joooooohhhhnnnnnnn....." 

* * * 

He woke to find his hand on his cock, his chest and belly sticky with fluid, and his heart on the verge of breaking. 

-end- 

\---------------- 

* * *


End file.
